Heroicide
by Anakin T Skywalker
Summary: A clone trooper reflects on the greatest mistake of his life. One-shot. Critique welcome.


Heroicide

_Well, I've done it now._

That was the first thing in my head after I accidentally condemned myself to spend the rest of my short life in a confinement room – "for my own protection," they say. Somehow I doubt it. I'm not much of an expert on emotions, but from the looks on my Jedi escorts' faces, I think they'd much rather leave me to the mercy of my comrades – or theirs. It's said these Jedi have some rule about not taking revenge, though, so I imagine that's mostly why I'm alive right now.

Not that it matters much; I won't be alive for very much longer. They haven't said as much, but I'm sure I'm slotted for execution. I've never heard of a trooper doing what I've done, but I can't think of any worse crime for a clone to commit.

I'm not the contemplative sort – none of us are, but I can't help wondering just a bit what went wrong with me. I was bred and grown along with many others, in Batch 112. We all ate the same food, wore the same clothes, kept the same schedules, learned the same things, and fought the same battles. We were all trained alike by Jango Fett himself. We all had the same amount of practice and the same amount of experience under the same commanders.

We were all bred to bring glory and safety to the Republic. We were made for one purpose: to serve as an army for the Jedi to command in a great war that spans the galaxy. But something along the way must have gone wrong with me, because I am clearly defective. Instead of serving the Republic as a useful member of its Grand Army, I've struck it a deadly blow.

And that bothers me more than the fact that I'm going to die. I've done the opposite of what I was supposed to do. I'm a disgrace to my brothers and to my template and trainer.

I may have made history; I may have single-handedly tipped the balance of this war. But that isn't what I was made for; making history is a senator's job. I wasn't bred to make a name for myself. I was bred to be a part of the Grand Army of the Republic, and to die in its service. Obviously, I've failed.

I've made enemies of the entire Jedi Order, probably the whole galaxy. Whether this applies only to me, or whether I've destroyed the reputations of all my brothers, remains to be seen. And most likely not by me; I'm 110 sure I'll be killed before I have a chance to find out.

You see, two days ago, I killed General Skywalker.

I remember how it happened. We were all honored to learn that we would be commanded by the acclaimed "Hero With No Fear" for the Cato Neimoidia campaign. I was eager to learn if he really was fearless, as that seems to be rather unusual among non-clones, even among the Jedi themselves.

We were not disappointed. The man would charge into any situation at all and wreak complete havoc with the other side. He'd slash down scores of battle droids in seconds, then work his way through countless supers, and be going one-on-one with a droideka before we'd gotten halfway across the field. We hardly had to do anything except pick up the leftovers – and there weren't many. Really, we could almost have sat down and just watched him put on his show – except sometimes he moved too fast for even our eyes to follow.

He was a good strategist, too, always coming up with some cockeyed, unconventional, ingenious plan to turn a battle around in our favor… or simply make us win faster.

And he had our heart loyalty. Not through his words, although he tried that, but through his actions, which appeared to be completely subconscious to him. He believed in saving everyone. No exceptions. And with him, for the very first time, "everyone" included us too. That wasn't the case with every commander or general I've served under; but General Skywalker saw us as humans worth saving, even if we were cloned humans. Several times I saw him risk his life to go back for one of my brothers who had been injured; no matter how badly they were hurt, if they were still alive when he found them he would take them safely to the Rimsoo himself

But things got harder as we got closer to the Neimoidian capital. More droids, more defenses, more mines, more of the other nasty surprises the Federation sets up for our welcome gift. It got so we clones actually had to do some of the fighting, instead of watching the droids disintegrate under General Skywalker's blade. We'd finally gotten in sight of the palace, after dodging giant harvester beetles all through a huge orchard of manax trees. There was a big field full of mines to cross, and plenty of droids to go around, and General Skywalker told us to run in under the harvesters, who knew how to negotiate the minefield safely. General Kenobi was there with his unit, too, and they came in the same way. True to form, Skywalker stopped to help an injured trooper and got him to a Rimsoo, then led us to the base of the fortress. Then the droids started just pouring out. General Skywalker was everywhere at once, taking out droids like he was a whole army unto himself. I remember watching him leap several meters into the air and come down smack in the middle of about twenty super battle droids.

I had no reason to doubt his ability, after what I'd seen so far; but somehow, I did. Somehow, I got the notion that he wouldn't be able to hold out against that many droids, and that I should help him. So I sighted a droid that was coming up behind the General, and fired.

Between the moment when I fired and the moment when the bolt impacted, General Skywalker whirled around, cut down the droid, and took the blaster bolt in his own chest. It had to have hit his heart; somehow, I don't think anything else would have slowed down this guy.

I just stood there, totally paralyzed with disbelief that I'd even hit him. This man could deflect thousands of blaster bolts from the droids in mere seconds with that lightsaber of his. I'd seen him almost completely obscured by a flurry of red bolts, none of which so much as touched him. And yet my one little blast, which was supposed to help him out, was the one that got him. I saw his face slacken, and then he just sort of flopped to the ground, dead on the spot. And that's when I realized: _Well, I've done it now._

After that, it was a complete disaster. General Kenobi is said to be the calm, steady one of the two – but he'd abandoned his corner of the battle and was at Skywalker's side in less than a second, gathering up his body and carrying him off the field. With our leadership gone, the droids quickly routed us, and our attack collapsed into a full retreat. I lingered a bit, half-hoping to be caught by a blaster bolt myself, or maybe one of those bloody wrist rockets the supers carry – but I wasn't even that lucky. I followed my brothers all the way back to the ships, and we abandoned the planet – another disgrace. On the journey back to Coruscant, I was located by a couple of the ARCs, who kept pretty close watch on me all the way back. Ordinarily, troopers wouldn't turn on each other, but apparently someone high up, probably one of the Jedi, wanted to see me. The ARCs seemed to think I'd try to escape somehow, but I wouldn't even consider it. I gunned down my own general; I deserve whatever happens to me.

As I'd expected, I was handed over to the Jedi back here on Coruscant, and they put me in this confinement room. I'm sure it's supposed to be punishing – most non-clones would consider it tiny, and the walls are such a plain, bright white that they'd induce insanity in most sentient creatures – but as a clone, I'm used to it, and can even find this room with its small cot rather luxurious.

Not that it matters. I'm as good as dead. All I have to do is wonder how I could have prevented it. Should I have trusted Skywalker to handle the droids himself? Should I have spent more time at the shooting range, honing my aim?

It makes no difference now. What's done is done. My life should have mattered so little in the scheme of things – and it will matter so little when I die. I don't care if I die; I'm not afraid, and I have no particular reason to want to keep living. I wish they would hurry up and kill me. At least when I'm dead, I won't have to keep knowing that I will be famous throughout the galaxy for the one thing I did wrong, and that my brothers will suffer for it.

I honestly hope these Jedi don't let me live – but then, I suppose I've got no need to worry. Skywalker was well-loved the galaxy over – I'm sure that by killing him, I've made enough enemies to accomplish the task. And if they don't execute me, there's always the Seps.

However death comes, I hope it comes soon. It's the only way I'll ever be at peace again.


End file.
